


Well you're not what I was looking for

by wicked3659



Series: Light me up again [1]
Category: due South
Genre: Arguing, Banter, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Kissing, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Making Up, Mild Language, Non-Linear Narrative, Not talking about feelings, POV Ray Kowalski, Swearing, but it can be sometimes, life is not a romance novel, no rose tinted glasses, off screen major character injury, post CotW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: Well you're not what I was looking forBut your arms were open at my doorAnd you taught me what a life is forTo see that ordinary, isn'tAnd you don't hold backSo I won't hold backAnd you don't look backSo I won't look backIngrid Michaelson - Light Me Up.Ray looks back on his journey while waiting for his plane.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski, Ray Vecchio/Stella Kowalski (hinted)
Series: Light me up again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148477
Comments: 16
Kudos: 33





	Well you're not what I was looking for

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the unofficial Joy Day of Friday the 15th of January, which ThisAintBC told me all about.  
> It's been a rough start to the year so I hope this brings a little joy to you while you read it.
> 
> This is dedicated to my discord Due South group: thisgirlsays22, spacetimeconundrum, feroxargentea, kittkat, ThisAintBC, and thesentamentalist. You guys have no idea but you helped save my life last year when I was at a really low point and felt like I was losing everything and everyone I cared about. The whole Due South fandom on discord and Facebook I've found have been amazing and I wanted to do something for you but I don't really have the words because I'm rubbish at expressing my feelings to those who matter the most to me. So I wrote you fic <3
> 
> Unbeta'd -- sorry.

If Ray never saw the inside of an airport again, he would die a happy man. Slouching in the hard plastic chair, he let his head fall back against the back with a puff of a sigh. His right leg bounced with impatience and his hands rubbed idly over his jeans. He'd never been good at waiting. That seemed to be all his life was. Endless periods of waiting in-between moments of it blowing up in his face in wild and bizarre ways. 

First, there had been Stella and Ray waiting for the other shoe to drop, which it eventually did, shattering his life and worldview into so many pieces, he had no hope of putting them back together. Then there was the utter craziness of his life that came after the divorce. For most of which he only had himself to blame. The drunken nights, the ill-thought-out ventures to bars to get noticed, to forget how lonely and worthless he felt, to feel good for a hot sweaty ten minutes that almost made up for how pathetic and hollow he felt afterward. Not to mention his brief foray into stalking his ex-wife. That hadn't been the proudest moment of his life that was for sure. 

After he'd gotten what he could out of his system, he'd been offered a transfer. A new life, a new name, a chance to escape. He was weak, he was down, so he said okay. They said he'd have to work with this guy, a Mountie, kinda weird, but Ray figured it couldn't be worse than the tattered remains of the life he was leaving behind so he'd said yes. Then he'd waited. Waited for the Mountie to show up. Then waited for the guy to hate him and high tail it back to Canada. 

Ray had never been good at waiting. Almost forced the issue by getting in Fraser's face as often as he could, more than the guy was used to from his last partner that's for sure. It had all come to a crunch when he'd forced Fraser's hand, punched his best and likely only friend in the face. Told him to take that transfer but then there'd been that craziness with the treasure and the pirates and the buddy breathing being standard procedure on that damn boat - ship. Then they were clicking again, in sync, you are now entering the Dominion of Canada, greatness. 

It was beyond bizarre, like something out of a badly written comedy. A down on his luck Chicago flatfoot and a cookie exiled Mountie with a deaf half-wolf, being partners, a duet. They had a rhythm; a style and it was easy. Even when Fraser was being a stubborn pedantic bastard or when Ray pushed the wrong buttons too hard and yelled at him or punched a wall in frustration, it worked. They worked. 

Ray had felt himself getting comfortable with Fraser. Familiar, too familiar, too used to his long-winded stories that Ray knew he used as a shield but with Fraser sharing a little, however cryptically, he had managed to squeeze past Ray's defences and remain… attached. His Benton-buddy whose personal space had expanded to include him. His friend and partner who never hesitated to back Ray up and filled him with confidence in himself, eliciting a daring trickle of hope in Ray. Hope that smouldered brighter with every small private smile, intense gaze, or teasing anecdote. In spite of it all, though, Ray knew he was still waiting. With every slip into thoughts of comfort, attraction and warmth came the painful twist of tension in his gut. He was waiting to be replaced. He was the stand-in partner, after all, Ray 2.0, the best friend of convenience. 

Except, when it all had come crashing down, Ray discovered he'd been waiting for his whole life. Each crash and burn and bad decision twisting and turning his path in a direction he'd never anticipated. Turned out, Ray was actually pretty damn good at waiting. He'd been playing the long game all along, reaching for those impossible odds. Waiting, shattering, waiting, burning, waiting, patient with the realisation of the man that he was, and he hadn't even realised until he'd waited almost a little too long and had watched the life he wanted slowly slip from his fingers. 

The airport tannoy crackled startling Ray to the present and a clear woman's voice announced a final call for a flight to Toronto. Opening his eyes, Ray stared up at the ceiling, his mind now blank. Shifting in his seat, he began watching people moving around him, inconsequential blurs of faces and bodies moving with purpose or waiting for their flights just like him. Connected by purpose yet disconnected from anything important. Just ships passing in the night. He snorted a soft laugh. 'See Fraser told you I'm a poet on the inside.'

****

"Damn, it's beautiful out here. Can see why you've missed it so much." Ray threw a grin at his partner and friend when they'd finished setting up camp. 

Rubbing his eyebrow with a mittened hand Fraser smiled ruefully. "I hadn't realised I'd been that obvious."

"Nah, not to anyone else," Ray grabbed the pot and a handful of snow to melt over their fire. "But this is me you're talking to Frase." He met Fraser's gaze over the fire and pointed his gloved fingers at him. "I  _ know _ you." 

Fraser ducked his head shyly. "That you do, Ray," he admitted softly. 

Ray looked up at that, surprised that Fraser had so readily agreed with him. He was met by a warm smile which he couldn't not return. God, how he wanted to see more of that smile. His stomach twisted with a pang of anxiety that eventually their quest would end and he may very well never see that smile again. 

In the meantime, forcing himself not to think too far ahead, Ray glanced over at his partner tending to the dogs. There was a lot he was learning about Benton Fraser the man as opposed to the Mountie, out here in the icy wilderness of the territories. They had been travelling for a month and Ray had noticed how Fraser was more relaxed, comfortable around him. Little by little opening up to Ray like fissures in a glacier, gradually cracking wider due to ice melt. It made his stomach flip flop and his heart beat faster which he steadfastly ignored. 

This adventure they had agreed to go on, freeing them from the constraints of civilisation and everyday responsibilities, just kept peeling back the layers of their friendship, their partnership. When you were forced into survival mode, your worldview tilted on its axis and you no longer looked at anything or anyone the same way. Living was raw and scary and beautiful and so terrifyingly precarious and precious, that Ray realised it wasn't only Fraser he was learning more about.

****

Ray had been in more airports than he cared to count, recently. More than anyone had any rights doing who didn't work for an airline. More often than not, the same airports, repeatedly. Each time he found himself waiting, stuck in limbo in some airport. And if that wasn't simply symbolical of his life up to that point. He told himself it was worth it, it was all worth it. It had to be.  _ Nothing worth having comes easily _ ,' Fraser had said to him in that damnable forced cheer he put on when he was hiding his true feelings.  _ Nothing is permanent, Ray _ .'

Yeah, well, he knew all about change, and easy it wasn't. It was the single scariest thing he had ever done in his life, and that included his marriage to and subsequent divorce from Stella. That by comparison seemed like a piece of cake, looking back. Squinting up at the electronic flight board, he tugged his glasses from his pocket and put them on. Still delayed. No information. He was going to miss his connection. 

He should probably call.

****

"I gotta go." 

"Well, make sure you wrap up, Ray. The toilet may not be far but there's still a risk in these temperatures."

Ray clenched his fists behind Fraser's back and took a deep breath, his heart thumping hard enough to hurt. "No, Fraser, I gotta go… back to Chicago." He watched Fraser's back stiffen, his hands making the tea falling still, and heard his sharp exhalation as though he'd been punched. 

"I see."

"You see?" 

Fraser turned around, his face placid but his eyes distant, looking at Ray as though gazing across a vast impassable distance. Ray's stomach churned. "Of course, Ray. Chicago is, after all, your home. You must be homesick after so long away."

Fraser's voice was steady but rough and Ray scowled, why did everything always have to be so hard? "That's not the reason."

"I mean it's perfectly understandable, Ray. By your own admittance, you try not to leave the city much at all if you can help it and out here is as far from a city as you can probably get. Not to mention you've been out here for three months, it's much longer than I'd expected or hoped for. I'm grateful you stayed this long." 

"Grateful," Ray muttered, rolling his eyes at Fraser's ramble, complete with nervous eyebrow rub and lip licking. He let out a long-suffering sigh. "What is with you?" 

Fraser blinked at Ray. "I beg your pardon?" 

"I say one thing,  _ one _ , about going home and you go bogart all over it like it's the best fucking idea you've ever heard." 

"Ray, I just thought, well, if it's what you want it would behoove of me to try and help you do whatever it is you want to do." Forehead creasing, Fraser looked down at the two cups of tea he was still holding. "I wouldn't want to be the reason you were unhappy out of a selfish inability to--" 

"--There you go again, assuming things, deciding things by yourself," Ray stabbed his finger through the air at his partner. "That's not buddies, Fraser. It ever occur to you to ask me why? Or hell, tell me what  _ you _ want?" 

Sighing, Fraser turned, put the cups down, and turned back, his arms folded, his eyes fixed on a point on the floor in front of him, his voice resigned, quiet. "In my experience, Ray, it rarely comes down to what we want."

Shaking his head in exasperation and glaring at the impossible man in front of him, Ray took a step closer. "We're partners, Fraser,  _ partners, and friends _ , I thought. And see I was under the impression that being partners and friends means something. Was I wrong?" 

Fraser's head snapped up at that, pinning Ray with an intensely pained gaze. "No! Of course, it means something, Ray. Our friendship, our partnership it means… it means everything to me…"

Something inside Ray untangled and his mouth twisted ruefully as he crowded into Fraser's space. "You can say no…"

"...Ray?"

"Tell me, no, and I'll back off, no harm no foul…buddies, partners always, okay? You just have to say no…" Ray whispered and waited, his trembling body pressed against Fraser's, their faces so close Ray was unable to breathe. He studied Fraser's wide-eyed startled face. It felt like forever yet was only mere seconds, then Fraser's eyes flicked down to his mouth and back up to his eyes so fast that if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed it. Ray knew what that meant, he hadn't become a Detective because he looked good in a shoulder holster. And the no he expected never came. 

Taking the leap, because somebody had to and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Fraser, he clutched Fraser's shirt with both fists and held on tightly as he kissed him gently, giving him a chance to pull away, to protest, to change his mind. At Fraser's squeak of surprise that melted into a soft moan, Ray grinned. He still had it. When their mouths parted, Ray's lips twitched into a fond shy smile at Fraser's astonished but somehow relieved gaze, hope burning bright in his glacial blue eyes. "Okay then. This time you listen to me, Fraser, and you listen good because I'm only going to say this once. I gotta go back…" 

****

Sitting forward in his seat, rubbing his temples with the fleshy part of his palms to fend off the headache he felt growing behind his eyes, Ray didn't think there would be any point in calling. He knew what the words would be.  _ Are you sure? _ and  _ It's not too late to change your mind. _ It wouldn't change anything, and Ray wasn’t about to start a fight about it. He'd made his decision, and they’d both agreed it was what they’d wanted so what were a few delays in the grand scheme of things? 

"Final call for Westjet flight 238." 

Ray really hated waiting. Even if he was apparently a Goddamned champion of waiting. It didn't help that he was only halfway through his journey and now there were delays. Typical. He needed more coffee. Decided, he picked up his duffel and slung it over his shoulder as he meandered between rows of chairs and waiting passengers, looking for a cafe.

****

It sucked. 

His bare apartment sucked. Especially now that Turtle was with Frannie and most of his stuff had been given away or put in storage. He had a sofa, his bed, his TV and his stereo though. It was enough. The apartment had been fine after his divorce, perfect even. Not too big, not too small, and all his. Now though, now that he spent his evenings and weekends alone, it was somehow larger and emptier. 

Fraser was a freak and he sucked. And Ray's phone bill costs were getting ridiculous so Ray had sacrificed take out, well, he'd reduced it to once or twice a week. He was no martyr. Still, no amount of dancing or loud music would fill the space and it really  _ really _ sucked.

He started doing as much overtime as he was allowed. 

His desk at the 2-7 was covered in case files that he was slowly working through, so most of his overtime was justified. Most of them had been left by Vecchio when he'd high tailed it to Florida with Ray's ex-wife. He just added that to his list of reasons to kick the guy in the head next time he saw him, which he hoped was never. 

Although Ray had asked him if it was okay, had asked him to his face, which had taken guts, Ray privately conceded. He'd said it was important as Benny was both their friend and he'd asked him to do the right thing. And Stella had asked him too because Kowalski had been her best friend once and she would always love him so he deserved to be asked, and Kowalski had kept his family safe and that as far as he was concerned made them family. "You don't have to always like your family but you always check with your brother if it's okay that you’ve fallen in love with his ex-wife before you go and make it more permanent, that's family. I promise if I hurt her, I'll come find you and make sure you shoot me, capiche?" 

So maybe Ray wouldn't kick him in the head. Unless he hurt Stella but that would be justifiable homicide surely? Ray snickered to himself in dark amusement as he worked through yet another outstanding case file. 

Typing his reports out, his grin faded as he remembered who used to type them out for him, Fraser with his freaky typing skills. His scowl deepened as his mood darkened. This had been so much easier when Fraser had helped. Where had the guy learned to type that fast up in the Northwest areas anyway? Fraser had mentioned piano lessons once which explained literally nothing. Didn't seem like there was much call for either of those particular skills out on the tundra, tracking stolen musk ox pelts or whatever it was Fraser did up there. 

He was doing it again. Frustrated, Ray thunked his head onto his desk repeatedly. Maybe he could beat Fraser out of his head. 

"Kowalski, you planning on doing any work while you're here. Or should I book you one of those nice rubber rooms they have now at Evanston?" 

"Does it come with room service?"

"Don't make me regret taking you back, Detective," Welsh groused on the way into his office. "Short staffed or not, I won't hesitate to put you on a plane back up North and let Fraser deal with you."

Ray smirked and lifted his head. "That a promise, Sir?" 

"Don't push your luck, Detective or you won't live long enough to see that pension you're working so hard to get by forty-five. Get to work." 

"Three bags full, Sir," Ray muttered with a grin. 

****

Sipping his coffee helped ease the itch of impatience. Ray sighed as he pulled his glasses out again and peered up at the information board for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last half hour. 

Finally, his flight had been updated from delayed to a gate number. "About time," he grumbled. Grabbing his bag and his coffee he ambled in the direction of his gate. 

He still hadn't called. It would be fine, he told himself. It wouldn't be long now and he would be home. No need to cause worry. What he wouldn't give for a hot shower and a back rub right then. 

Somehow, despite having travelled this route several times and knowing exactly how long it took, this time seemed to be taking forever. That probably meant something but Ray was honestly too tired to care. He just wanted on that plane. 

****

"How'd you get pancakes up here anyway?" 

Fraser chuckled and watched Ray shovel said pancakes into his mouth hungrily. "Honestly, Ray, it is still Canada, we're not completely cut off from civilisation up here you realise?" 

"Know that, just you don't normally have stuff like this. I was expecting porridge with some pemmican when I got here. You know, death by slow torture." Ray waved his fork around.

"Once in a while won't do any harm, besides, as it's your first visit in the twelve months since you returned to Chicago, I wanted to do something nice and carbohydrates are recommended after a long journey." 

"You're so full of shit, Fraser," Ray laughed. "You're always going on about them being full of sugar or bad for me or some shit," he grinned up at Fraser's raised eyebrow. "Don't deny it, you got all pissy about me eating too many carbs and sugar in Chicago, even though I know for a fact you got a sweet tooth too. You can't always use me as an excuse, Frase, you got to learn that you're allowed to treat yourself when I'm not here." 

"Be that as it may," Fraser responded primly, ignoring Ray's satisfied smirk. "I just think it wouldn't hurt for you to input some variety, Ray. Vegetables are not your enemy." 

Ray threw a mild scowl across the table as Fraser sat down and shook his head at the man's teasing smile. "Just admit that this is as much something nice for you as it is for me and you deliberately don't let yourself have nice things unless I'm around." 

"Ray…" 

"Admit. It." 

Fraser rolled his eyes and sighed. "All right, fine. Happy?"

Ray's smirk broadened into a toothy grin. "Thank you kindly." He poured some more maple syrup over his remaining pancake and looked up to see if Fraser had that look of disapproval on his face, only to find the man smiling fondly at him. "What?" 

"I just like seeing you enjoy your food, Ray, that's as much a treat for me as the food itself." 

Feeling a flush heat his skin, Ray let out a soft laugh. "You're a freak," he declared affectionately before shoving a syrup-drenched piece of pancake into his mouth. 

Fraser's smile twitched and widened; his gaze warm. "Understood." 

****

At least things moved smoothly once he got to the gate. Passengers were already queuing up, there weren't many which was no surprise to Ray at this time. He got in the queue and waited as they shuffled forward one by one, bags scanned and passports checked before they were allowed into the waiting area. 

The screen had the updated flight time. They would be boarding in ten minutes and Ray sank into one of the ugly plastic seats with relief. He could wait ten minutes. He'd done four years and change; he could do ten fucking minutes. 

He tilted his head onto the back of the seat and closed his eyes, fingers drumming on his thigh restlessly as he thought about one of his more recent conversations with Fraser. If nothing else, he was developing a new appreciation for Gödel’s theorem. 

_ Are you certain about this Ray?  _

_ Why do you keep asking me that? What, you think I'm too damaged to know what I want? _

_ You know I don't think that. _

_ I don't know what the fuck you know, Fraser, you never fucking tell me. _

_ Language Ray, and that's simply not true…  _

_ Look, Fraser, it's decided alright. We talked about this. I made my decision. It is done, D U N, donesky and I don't want to hear you try to pick holes in it. Like you always do. It's like a disease, you just can't help yourself and it fucking hurts every time, alright. Death by a thousand paper cuts is what you are, Fraser. _

_ Try to be reasonable, Ray, I don't do it all the time. _

_ Does this conversation seem familiar to you?  _

_ You're evading. _

_ Well, you'd know all about that wouldn't you, Benton buddy? _

_ I just want to be sure, Ray. Can you truly hold that against me?  _

_ Do not do that, Fraser. Do not try guilt-tripping me. _

_ I wasn't - -  _

_ \-- Fraser. _

_ Shutting up, Ray. _

_ Thank you kindly, Fraser… and if I've asked you once, I've asked you a thousand times, will you please just trust me?  _

_... Alright, Ray. I'm sorry... _

Ray realised at that moment, as the boarding call sounded, that he hated one thing more than waiting: Benton Fraser's goddamned apologies. 

****

It was always the same. After three years and three weeks of not talking about it, unable to do anything about it, with heavy silences that spoke the thousands of words they should have been saying, the tension broke. Either Fraser would prevaricate just one time too many or Ray would complain just a little too loudly and all that compressed tension would explode. 

They would argue and shout, well Ray would shout and Fraser would get snippy and sarcastic until one of them would storm out of Fraser’s cabin or Ray’s apartment, leaving the other pacing and angry. 

Sometimes one of them would chase the other out and push until they were kissing fiercely and grabbing onto each other like their lives depended on it. All mouths and hands, teeth and lips, heat, and desperate aching, with a yearning neither of them could nor would put a voice too. It was simply too painful. The rest of the time one of them would wait until the other came back and their kisses would be slow, tender, filled with remorse. Their touches would be gentle and intimate as they murmured apologies and regrets over warm skin and wet mouths. They would hold onto one another in those moments for as long as they could and just be together, still afraid, still not talking about it, but together. 

For a time. 

Until someone got on that inevitable plane home once more. 

****

The plane seat wasn't comfortable but as Ray sat down and strapped in, his bag stowed safely in the overhead locker, it was suddenly the best place in the world. Well, almost. 

Home again, home again. This time, for the last time Ray thought wistfully and swallowed repeatedly around the sudden lump in his throat. Four years was a long time to try and make a long-distance anything work. Ray was a man who needed to be present in his relationships. It had suffocated Stella and had driven him crazy when she had pushed him away. So this thing, this crazy bad idea he had going with Fraser had been the ultimate torture. For him at least. Fraser never really talked about how it made him feel. He’d mentioned once about not wanting Ray to feel bad, or guilty or to feel obligated in any way. Ray had just called him out on his bullshit and left him alone with those feelings and thoughts he wasn’t sharing. Two could play at that game. 

Except, not really. 

Ray was an open book to Fraser and they both damn well knew it. He always eventually spilled his guts and then spent a couple of hours afterward feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, wrapped up tightly in Fraser’s arms, his face nuzzling Ray’s hair as he murmured soothing words to him, reassured him in the way only Fraser could. It infuriated the hell out of him but Ray was like an addict who needed his fix and he was in far too deep to let go now. 

There were worse ways to go. Like drowning for example. Or plummeting to your death in an aeroplane, aware with each passing second you were going to die and there was nothing you could do about it.

Ray jerked awake with a gasp, his chest heaving as the plane lurched a little as it hit a bit of turbulence. Getting his breathing under control, he rubbed his face tiredly. The latter half of this journey was always the worst part, though it very much depended on the weather. ‘The lengths I go to.’ he thought to himself. It was far too late to turn back now, Ray had nothing to go back to. 

_ I’m an all or nothing kinda guy, Fraser. Figured you’d know that about me by now. _

_ I do, Ray… I know that as surely as you know that I’m incapable of making such leaps without being absolutely sure… not after… _

_ I know. I know, Frase… you don’t gotta say it. _

****

At the four-year mark, Ray snapped. He couldn’t do it anymore. He felt torn, right down the middle and he needed something… something substantial. He thought he could do it, had put in the footwork and the hours but he hated it, hated himself, and was losing sight of the goal, of who he was. 

“Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray!” 

“What?” 

“You called me, Ray… you were panicking. I do understand how you feel.”

“You do? Because I’m not even sure how I feel. It’s all jumbled up and I can’t… I can’t think. God, you must hate me!”

“I could never hate you. I can assure you that whatever you’re feeling, I do understand, Ray. You’re not going through this alone and while I am aware, I’m not the most expressive, I do feel, Ray and it’s alright. Everything’s going to be alright.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.”

Ray sank down to the floor in front of his sofa, his phone clutched tightly against his ear at the sound of Fraser’s certainty. He talked for hours on the phone and let Fraser talk him down from that emotional ledge. 

If Ray had been a less secure man, he might’ve worried that Fraser thought less of him for his freak-outs but he never gave any indication. Ray trusted him when Fraser said he understood and acknowledged how difficult the situation was but had reminded him that they’d known from the beginning it wasn’t going to be easy. That it had in fact been Ray that had reassured Fraser, calmed him down, laid it all out, so Fraser could see his logic, could understand his decision, and support him in it. No matter how hard it was. 

Ray had forgotten about that and laughed a little at how much of a bad influence Fraser had been on him, turning Mr. Instinct into someone logical so he could make Fraser understand. He had finally fallen asleep on his living room floor, phone still in hand, Fraser’s soothing voice in his head, knowing he would be able to face the next day and the day after. 

Except, things never went as planned where he and Fraser had been concerned. Nope, their partnership; christened in fire, fortified by water, and bound together forever by nuclear submarines, had been the very definition of wildly bizarre since the day they had met. Ray didn’t know why he hadn’t expected it all to blow up in his face sooner. 

****

The incessant, annoying as hell beeping woke him up and the first thing Ray registered was pain. Even his eyeballs hurt. How the fuck did his eyeballs hurt? He felt like one giant bruise. Well, he wasn’t dead then. No way he could be dead if he was in this much pain. He heard a strangled groan, it sounded like something from one of those zombie movies he liked watching but sometimes gave him nightmares, and he flinched. 

“Hold still.” Somebody, the woman with the nice voice maybe, touched his face and he felt a pinprick in his arm and the pain melted away into nothing and he let out a sigh. 

He had no idea how long he’d lain there just getting irritated by the beeping. He was in a hospital then. He could barely move his mouth around the tube stuck down his throat. It was uncomfortable but he could breathe so removing it was probably a bad idea he figured. 

Voice drifted in and out. Or was it him that was drifting in and out? Ray was positive at one point that his bed was floating and that was mental but also kind of nice so he just went with it. As long as that all over his body, bone-breaking pain didn’t come back, Ray would go along with anything. 

The next thing he was aware of was that the tube had gone and his throat hurt. He tried to say water but all that he’d managed was a raspy wordless growl as his wrecked throat refused to cooperate. Whoever was in the room got the message though because the next thing Ray knew was a straw was being held to his dry lips and cool water was slipping down his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank anything that tasted as wonderful as that first sip of cold water. It was a god damned religious experience and Ray couldn’t contain the sob that welled up nor the tears he felt leaking from his eyes. 

When Ray finally opened his eyes, he found his room empty but could hear a gruff sounding voice just outside the door at the foot of his bed. There was a coat on the chair in the corner of the room so whoever it was, was coming back. Ray could wait, he’d gotten real good at waiting. 

If only Fraser could see him now being all patient and zen with it. Scratch that, Ray thought as he lifted his head to peer down at himself. If Fraser could see him now, he’d have conniptions and then probably kill him. Or lecture him to death. Possibly both given the state of him. Huffing a hoarse laugh, Ray couldn’t see a downside to either option if it meant he got to see Fraser’s face last thing before he died. 

“Detective, you’re awake, you took your sweet time.” 

“Sorry… Sir…” Ray tried to clear his throat but his voice wouldn’t rise above a raspy whisper. “Places to go… people to kick… in the head…” 

“Hmm, I see this experience hasn’t changed you, I imagine this pleases me.” 

Ray grinned weakly up at Welsh who came to stand beside his bed. “Miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head. You look like shit.”

“Looked… worse…” 

Welsh raised a dubious eyebrow at that. “So Detective, do tell me, was it compulsion or insanity that caused you to throw yourself off a six-story building to pursue a criminal who had just shot you? Or did you forget that you couldn’t actually fly?”

“Seemed like… a good… idea… at the time, Sir.” Ray managed a grin. “You know me.”

“Mm, I have the stomach ulcer to prove it,” Welsh grunted. “You know, if you wanted to retire earlier, I could have wrangled you up some sick leave for six months. This, Ray, is what’s called an excessive cry for attention.” 

Ray couldn’t help but laugh at Welsh’s deadpan. He was going to be okay; Welsh wouldn’t joke with him if he was on his deathbed. He was a hard ass but he wasn’t cold. He frowned and stilled with sudden panic. “Fraser!” 

“Taken care of,” Welsh held up a hand to halt Ray’s panic in its tracks. “He sends his apologies, they won’t let him leave but he says he’ll call,” he gestured to the phone on Ray’s bedside. 

Relieved, Ray nodded and relaxed. 

“You owe me, Detective,” Welsh continued with what could only be described as a haunted look in his eyes. “It was never at the top of my list to listen to the Mountie fall apart over the phone over what an absolute idiot you are and I better never hear it again. You put either of us through that again, Kowalski, I’ll shoot ya.”

Ray winced and nodded gratefully. He could only imagine his own reaction if he’d been the one to receive a phone call like that and his stomach lurched unhappily. “Understood, Sir.” 

****

Ray gripped the arms of his seat as the plane shuddered to a stop on the runway. The landing and take-off was always the worst part. Letting out a shaky breath he’d been holding, he uncurled his hands and waited for the seat belt sign to be switched off. 

It wouldn’t be much longer now. There’d be nobody there to greet him when he landed, not that Ray had expected anyone to, especially not with all his delays. The thought still filled him with a sense of solicitude. Oh yeah, Fraser, he could do ten-dollar words sometimes too and he could do them in French. Ray smirked to himself as he got up to retrieve his bag. 

He’d always imagined coming home after a trip like this to be filled with anxious waiting, tight relieved hugs in the airport, relief, and offers to carry his luggage, you know, like in the movies. Rolling his eyes, Ray decided he’d read one too many of Frannie’s romance novels, not that he would admit it to anyone ever, but he kinda liked them. 

_ What? What more could you want from a story, Fraser? You got drama, you got your romance, you got your villain and you’ve got your satisfying ending to a mystery solved and the hero getting the girl, or the guy. What more do you need?  _

_ It’s unrealistic, Ray and may I say, absurdly exaggerated with regards to the romantic interests.  _

_ It’s a story! It’s not supposed to be realistic; it’s supposed to make you feel… you know… stuff.  _

_ Such as? _

_ I don’t know! You know, stuff, put yourself in the hero’s shoes or hell the romantic interest’s shoes.  _

_ Is that what you do? Is solving crimes and being an actual real-life detective, not enough drama for you, Ray? Or do you put yourself in the position of romantic interest due to something lacking in your own life? _

_ I refuse to answer that question. _

_ Why ever not?  _

_ Because, Fraser, that question is a trap and I’m not falling for it.  _

_ That’s just silly, Ray. _

_ Nu-uh, no siree, I’ve been married, Fraser I know a trap question when I hear one. I’m not going to let you do it. _

_ You’re being ridiculous. _

_ And you’re being very un-Mountie like, Fraser. I see through your innocent act, blushing virgin bullshit.  _

_ I am not-- _

_ \--I know that. That’s why I’m not falling for the trap.  _

Ray chuckled softly at the memory of Fraser’s indignation, but he hadn’t argued the point which meant Ray had been right and the stubborn Mountie had met his match. Ray remembered being quite smug and insufferable about it too until Fraser had basically pounced him in order to get him to shut up. Getting under Benton Fraser’s skin was and would always be one of Ray’s most favourite things in the world. There wasn’t a romantic novel in the world that could hold a candle to the satisfaction it gave him to have Fraser lose his composure, even just a little bit. 

It helped that his loss of composure nearly always resulted in Ray ending up naked with an incredibly determined hot Mountie plastered to his body. 

No, life certainly wasn’t like a romance novel but it definitely had its moments. Still, it would have been nice to know that somebody would be waiting for him when he landed. Instead of the reality, which was an empty airport and a cold car.

****

“Do you have everything packed?” Fraser’s voice was tentative, quiet when he spoke and Ray scowled. 

“What kind of idiot do you take me for? Of course, I do, it’s an early morning flight, I’m nearly finished getting my shit together. Stop worrying. I’m not going to leave anything behind okay?”

Fraser didn’t say anything for a few moments and the silence made Ray fidget, then pace and frown. “Did you check everything off your list?” 

“Yes, Fraser,” Ray answered, exasperated. “Stop fussing, you’re worse than my mum.” 

“I just… I don’t want you to have any regrets…” 

Ray sank down onto the sofa. “Is that what you think is going to happen? Really? After all this time?”

“I don’t… well it’s hard for me to… what I’m trying to say is… oh dear…”

“Spit it out, Ben!” 

“This is your last trip here, Ray… after this… there’s no going back, I don’t think I could… I’m not as strong as you think I am, Ray and if you had any doubt at all… I wouldn’t want you to regret… your decision.” 

Closing his eyes, Ray let out a sigh and smiled. “I gotta tell you something before I fly. Before I leave and I need you to believe it, to trust it and not twist it into something else, like you do, which I know you don’t mean to,” Ray added quickly before Fraser could protest. “It’s just who you are, I get that. I always got that about you.” 

“...Alright, Ray…”

“Okay, so I’m not too good with my words like you, you know that, but you need to know that these past four years, in spite of how hard it got sometimes and how much you probably wanted to strangle me at times.”

“Ray…”

“Don’t worry, there were times when I wanted to strangle you too,” Ray snickered. “But despite all that difficulty and time apart and not talking about it and then that whole incident that was just a flesh wound so you needn’t have gotten all worked up.”

“You were shot in the chest, Ray! And fell off a six-story building.” 

“I didn’t fall, I jumped okay?”

“How does that make anything better?”

“It was my choice?” 

Ray could practically hear Fraser’s eye roll and grinned. “Anyway, stop distracting me, I have to finish saying this.”

“Right you are, Ray.”

“Good. So, in spite of all that shit we put each other through for whoever’s bright idea this whole thing was, you gotta know that these past four years have been some of the best in my life and I wouldn’t exchange them or forget them for anything. I couldn’t, Ben. It’s been a pleasure, so I don’t want you to start feeling guilty or have regrets, or think that I feel either of those things, okay? You with me?” 

“...I... I’m with you, Ray. And if I may say… likewise. It’s been weird but a pleasure.” 

Ray smiled and ducked his head. “So, I uh, I gotta finish packing. I’ll call you.” 

“Alright… goodnight, Ray. Have a safe flight and...”

“And? Fraser? Ben?” 

“I love you.” 

All the air left Ray’s body as though he’d been body-slammed to the floor and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. “And I you…” he whispered roughly. 

****

The frigid air that hit him like a slap to the face when he stepped off the rust bucket that they’d passed off as a plane, was such a stark reminder that he was still alive, that Ray couldn’t find it in him to complain. “Fuck…” he breathed out, taking a deep breath. 

“Scared you, eh?” The pilot, Gunther grinned at him. “Not used to flying in one of these babies huh?”

“You’d be surprised,” Ray muttered, his face burning at the very recent memory of his throwing up into the paper bag he’d had thrust in front of his face. 

“The turbulence can rattle even seasoned flyers; I wouldn’t let it bother you.” Gunther clapped him on the back. “Let me just get your bag and I’ll take you to the terminal.” 

“Nah, it’s okay, my car--”

“--Your car was picked up for you the day you left.”

“What?” 

Shrugging and flashing Ray a wide amused grin, the pilot handed Ray his bag. “With the storm coming in, he didn’t want it to succumb to exposure or something. You got an unhealthy relationship with your vehicles, Ray. It’s catching apparently.” 

Ray just scowled. “How the fuck am I supposed to get home?” he grumbled as they made their way over to the terminal building.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Gunther pointed ahead of them and gave Ray’s shoulder a squeeze before turning back. 

Ray stopped and stared in disbelief for a moment, then put on his glasses to make sure. His feet blindly carried him forward until he came to a stop in front of the man, who was both so familiar and yet a stranger to him after another year apart. He was the absolute bane of his existence, the most annoying man in the world whom Ray loved with his whole heart. “I was delayed… you said you couldn’t…” he uttered stupidly. 

“Ray, did you honestly think, after four years, that I wouldn’t be here to welcome you home?” 

Ray felt his lip wobble. Goddamnit, he wasn’t going to fucking cry now. “I just… I would’ve driven… You waited… I said you didn’t have to… I thought for sure you couldn’t...

Warm hands cupped Ray’s cheeks and he closed his eyes tightly in a futile attempt to stop the hot tears from spilling over. 

“I wanted to surprise you.” Came the soft reply. “Besides, you, Ray Kowalski, are worth waiting for.” 

The gasped sob escaped before he could stop it and Ray dropped his bag and flung his arms around the very solid, very warm body of Benton Fraser who held him just as tightly in return. “Oh God, Ben,” Ray sniffed and pulled back so he could kiss him again and again. “I thought this day would never come…” 

“I knew you could do it,” Fraser murmured softly, pressing his forehead against Ray’s. “I would’ve rather you hadn’t expedited matters quite so spectacularly but I’m certainly not going to complain about the results.” He smiled at Ray’s bright shaky laugh and kissed him sweetly. 

“You owe me a hundred of air,” Ray replied, his hands curling into Fraser’s hair as he hugged him fiercely. 

“How’d you figure that, Ray?”

“I told you I wouldn’t be able to make the five years,” he grinned at Fraser’s pointed glare that held absolutely no heat. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to win that bet.”

After kissing Ray again, Fraser pulled back and gave Ray that blinding, I’ve just landed in a giant snowfield smile, “Oh, I think I might have some idea, Ray.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Fraser stroked his thumb along Ray’s lower lip and gazed at him intently. “Let’s go home, Ray.” 

All of Ray’s worries and last-minute jitters had blown away with the chilly Canadian wind. He felt light as Fraser picked up his bag, and slung an arm over his shoulders, guiding him towards his RCMP issued truck. Sometimes, if you waded through enough shit, put your hours in, got your scars, your badges, and then some, and was lucky enough to be pensioned off early, life could be like one of those trashy romance novels. And Ray found he didn’t care much whether he was the hero or the love interest. A person could be both in his own story, right? “Hey, Ben, where’s Dief?”

“Oh, do not get me started on that wolf.”

Ray flinched at the tone. 

“I tell you now, you have ruined him, Ray Kowalski.”

“Hey, how’s this my fault?” 

“He’s an Arctic wolf for god’s sake, Ray with an extremely unhealthy addiction to junk food and a propensity for stealing said food when a certain someone isn’t around to procure it for him.”

“Oh...that…”

“Yeah…that.” 

Ray grimaced and flashed Fraser a wide grin. “I’ll make it up to you? And I promise not to feed him anything but wolf food for a week.”

“You can make it up to me by cleaning up the mess he’s making from having an upset stomach. Did you know I had to have his stomach pumped because he ate an entire chocolate cake, Ray? That was just the other month. You’d think he’d have learned his lesson but nooo. You enter into a wildly bizarre long-distance relationship with a certain Chicago flatfoot with experimental hair and terrible eating habits and you pay and you pay and you pay.”

Ray laughed as Ben ranted. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t  _ exactly _ like a romance novel but it was greatness all the same. The greatest feeling in the world in fact. There was just no place like home. 


End file.
